Lucky, Part 1

The show ER and all characters and situations borrowed from it are property of Constant-C, NBC, Warner Bros., etc. This fanfiction is for entertainment only and no profit is derived from it.

Note: This story contains language and consensual sex scenes which may offend some readers and as such is inappropriate for those under 18. This is a two-part story that continues to explore Doug and Carol's early  relationship, sometime before the ER pilot. Many thanks to Claire, for her constant encouragement,friendship and good advice.

I appreciate your feedback, so please send comments and suggestions to the address listed below.


Lucky, Part 1


by Elizabeth
Eliz1296@aol.com

John Taglieri

While Doug was busy ignoring her, an orthopedic surgeon named John Taglieri was paying a lot of attention to Carol.

He had worked at the hospital for several years, but seldom came down to the ER until the day Carol caught his eye.

Since then, "Tag," as everyone had called him since his high school football days, spent all his downtime there, hanging out at the nurses' desk, chatting in the lounge, lingering in the hallways to get a glimpse of Carol.

He was a nice-looking, popular doctor who flattered Carol with all the attention he paid her. Any number of women co-workers would have been happy to date him. But when he'd asked Carol out, she'd been reluctant.

"Hey, how about dinner after work?" he'd proposed on more than one occasion.   But she always had an excuse - something else to do or she was working late or she had a family obligation.

Before long, Tag had seen the looks she and Doug Ross exchanged, the suggestive way he'd greet her: "So, how'd you *sleep* last night, Carol?" as though they shared a private secret, just the two of them. When they passed in the hall, Tag noticed the little lift of her eyebrows and the brazen smile she'd flash at him. The familiar way his hand would reach out to lightly touch her back or slip around her shoulders.

And once, he'd walked into the lounge and found the two of them pressed up against the counter, kissing passionately. They had been so engrossed in each other that they had not even noticed his awkward intrusion or hasty retreat.

So Tag believed it when he heard the ER staffers debating whether Dr. Ross and Nurse Hathaway had a room someplace in the hospital where they met for sex during their breaks.

He believed it and it made him sick - to think that Carol was wasting her time on Ross, wasting that smile on him, pinning her hopes on someone who wasn't nearly worthy of her. Doug Ross and his sleazy flirtations were legendary.  Anytime an attractive new female came on staff, Ross could be counted on to try and pick up on her. And usually he was successful, unless some woman who'd already been burned by him got to her first.

Typical of Ross to have targeted Carol, Tag thought protectively. She was sweet and naive and didn't realize what kind of guy Ross was - didn't realize that he didn't want her as a girlfriend, or for anything more serious.

He just wants to use her when he can't *get some* somewhere else, Tag thought.  How convenient for him that he could have Carol - ready and willing and right here at work - whenever he wanted her.

For several months, Taglieri built up a friendship with Carol, flirting with her a little and getting to know her. As long as it was Doug Ross she was hung up on, Tag knew he'd get a chance with her sooner or later. Doug never stayed with any woman for very long. And when he broke it off - when he broke Carol's heart - Tag decided he would be right there to pick up the pieces.
_______

First Date

After a couple weeks of Doug's panicked avoidance of her, Carol finally took Tag up on his standing dinner offer.

He caught her alone in the breakroom one afternoon. "Carol, how about - "

"Dinner?" She finished the sentence and smiled at him, genuinely happy at the thought of escaping her lonely apartment that evening.

"Yeah, dinner," he said, smiling. "You mean you're free for a change?"

"Sure, I'm free," she said. "Why don't you give me a ride home after my shift ends and I'll change and we can go anywhere you like."

"Sounds like a plan," he said.

They went to a small Italian restaurant he knew not far from her apartment.  They walked there, enjoying the brisk air and the chance to talk about something other than work.

He was kind and polite, she thought. And he seemed genuinely interested in her. She found herself talking more than usual, laughing with him over linguini and a bottle of Chianti, telling him about nursing school and her mother and her huge, Ukrainian family. She was surprised by how comfortable she felt with him.

He talked too - about his Italian family and how similar they were to her own.  He told her about his college football career and his favorite hobbies, flyfishing and bowling, which he made her promise to try with him sometime.  She nodded solemnly and said she would, all the time wondering with amusement what Doug would say his favorite hobbies were: Basketball, Jack Daniel's, getting laid....?

As they walked home, he took her hand and she found she liked the warm, strong grasp of his fingers.

At her stoop, he stopped and looked at her. "Carol, I ... I know you're involved with Doug Ross, but ... " he began, awkwardly. 

She looked at him silently.

"I mean, I had a really good time tonight and I've wanted to get to know you better for a long time. Is it ... are things between you and Doug ... are they serious?"

"Serious?" she looked down and smiled grimly. "No, I don't think you'd call Doug and I very serious."

"You mean you'll consider going out with me again?" he asked.

She looked up at him, at his eyes so plainly full of affection.  She could tell he was hanging on her next words.

"Yeah, Tag. Yeah, I'll go out with you again," she said, smiling. "I had a nice time, too."

Tag smiled broadly, thrilled by her words and by her smile.  There was an awkward pause and then he looked toward his car. "I guess I'd better take off," he said slowly. "I've got a knee replacement scheduled at 7 tomorrow."

"Sure," Carol said. "Thanks a lot for dinner."

He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "You're very welcome.  Thank *you* for going out with me. I'm looking forward to next time."

Carol watched him walk toward his car for a moment, then turned and went into her building.
___________________________

The Marine Room

"Well now, that's what I call the eight ball in the side pocket," Doug said, punctuating his slurred remark with an emphatic thump of his pool cue on the wooden floor.

"Hey Doug, get outta here," said one of the pool players, giving him a friendly shove toward the bar. "There's guys here tryin' to win a bet."

A hurt look crossed Doug's face. "Whattaya think, I'm not tryin' too? ... Guys, do you realize I'm in on this bet? I'm in this thing big time." He staggered a little, a grin inexplicably coming over his face as he reached for his drink.

The man who addressed him earlier snatched the glass away before Doug could grab it. "Buddy, I think you need a ride home," he said.

"Home? Oh yeah, home. I gotta ... I gotta nice little lady who's gonna take me home and take real good care of me." He looked around and shook his head a couple of times, trying to fend off the double-vision that he found often plagued him at his favorite bar late at night.

"Honey," he said, as an attractive dark-haired woman in her early '20s appeared before him.

Her name. This was the waitress he'd taken to a movie and out for a drink tonight. What was her name?

"Honey ..." It came to him suddenly. "Cathy, this guy says I oughta get you to give me a ride home."

"Okay, Doug, c'mon," the woman said, smiling at him indulgently. "Gimme your keys and I'll drive you home." She took his arm and they walked out of the bar, returning for just a moment so she could pry the pool cue out of Doug's hand and return it to the rack.
________________

"Okay Doug, I made us some coffee." Cathy walked out of Doug's kitchen and stopped abruptly, not overly surprised at the scene in front of her. This kind of thing had happened to her before, an occupational hazard that came with dating men who frequented the restaurant where she waited tables. Just because she took their orders during the dinner rush, they thought it was okay to treat her like crap on a date.

The charming doctor who'd taken her out was nearly unconscious on his couch, one arm thrown across the back of the cushions, his head hanging on his chest.

He'd flirted with her shamelessly for about a month, badgering her teasingly until she'd agreed to go to a movie with him tonight. But when he suggested stopping by the Marine Room on the way home, she'd been a little hesitant. The other waitresses had told her he spent so much time at the place that he had a barstool permanently reserved for him there.

"Doug?" Cathy looked at him a moment, sighed, then looked around for a phone book so she could call a cab, reaching for his wallet. She did not intend to pay for her own ride home.

"Hey, what're you doing? Not leaving already are you?" Doug lifted his head and looked at her, smiling.

Good god, she thought, he *is* great-looking. She was tempted to stay a while.   Besides being a drinker, he also had a reputation for being an incredible lover, though tonight - in this condition - she doubted he'd live up to his reputation.

"Well, you didn't seem to be too interested in me. I thought you were falling asleep," she pouted, sitting down on the couch beside him.

Doug looked up at her, hazily.

Her name. Oh, yes, what's-her-name. The waitress. He flashed her a sweet smile and put his arm around her, drawing her close, anticipating the softness of her body in his arms.

Doug started kissing her, finding her willing enough, her lips parting, her body yielding to him. But all the time he had to keep fighting back the nagging thoughts surfacing and resurfacing in his mind.  This isn't right.... she isn't right. She doesn't feel right ..... it's not the same .... she's not Carol.

Shut *up*, he thought, willing himself to keep going, to just do what came naturally, just do what he'd been doing for years - enjoying himself with women, getting laid, never wanting it to mean anything. Having a good time.

You're having a good time. It's not about anything - or anyone - else. Just do it.

And he pushed Cathy back into the couch, pulling up her short skirt and working his fingers underneath her pantyhose, silencing the voice inside his head by listening to the squeals of pleasure that started to escape from her mouth.

He felt himself starting to get turned on. Thank god.
______________________

Two Months Later

Carol unlocked the door to her apartment, turning the deadbolt, and walked in.  She sighed, hesitating a moment before flipping on the lights and looking around the place from the vantage point of her doorway.

She had a decision to make tonight. That was why she had insisted on being alone, coming here alone. Lately, between Tag and her mother, she felt like everyone in her life was making decisions except her. She needed some quiet, so she could think.

Tag wanted her to move in with him.

Since their first date, they'd been seeing each other steadily and she had started to spend several nights a week at his place. It was nicer than her cramped, un-air-conditioned apartment and in a better part of the city. And when she worked days, Tag could give her a ride to the hospital so she wouldn't have to ride the El.

Tag was wonderful that way. Always concerned about her, taking good care of her, wanting to make things easy for her. And things had been so difficult for Carol for so long that it was very nice just to let him do it.

John Taglieri was a good man, there was no doubt about it. A real catch, as her mother said again and again. He was a doctor - a surgeon even - who appreciated nice things and treated Carol to a lot of them, never sparing any expense. His big Italian family embraced her immediately and showered her with attention.

Already, she had heard comments about how well everyone was going to get along on holidays, how they'd go on vacation together when Carol and Tag .... well, *if* Carol and Tag ... and then she'd see the knowing looks and smiles aimed in her direction. They were just so perfect together. Everyone said so.

She was lucky to have him - that's what her mother said. Carol was glad her mother liked him. It was in her nature to want to please everyone: Tag, her mother, her bosses at work, the doctors, the other nurses.  Doug.

She couldn't please all of them at the same time, though, and lately she wasn't very good at pleasing herself. She didn't even know what made her happy anymore. She was starting to feel like her life - her future - had slipped out of her control.

She sighed. At least she didn't have to deal with her mother's constant disapproval now. Since she and Doug had stopped seeing each other - never formally breaking up but just going their separate ways without a word - Helen Hathaway had been much happier with her daughter.

Doug was "a phase" Carol was going through: That's how her mother summed up their tumultuous relationship. A rebellious phase that would pass.

And apparently she'd been right.
___________________________

Carol & Tag

Carol went into the bedroom and took her clothes off, pulling a long, black T-shirt over her head, thinking about the conversation she'd had with Tag at his apartment earlier that day.

"Why not move in here, Carol? It just makes sense. You like my place, don't you? Why are you hesitating?" He looked at her, concerned. "It's not ... You're not still thinking about Doug Ross, are you?"

Carol looked down. He hit the nail on the head and she knew it was written all over her face. She couldn't let him see it.

"Carol, please." Tag tilted her chin up so he could meet her eye. "I thought that was over. He was just using you, it was so obvious. Don't you know that?"

Carol flushed, anger rising inside her. Tag didn't understand.  Hell, she didn't even understand it all. What Doug meant to her, what he'd given her, how he'd changed her in so many ways.

What do you know about Doug and I? What can you know about two years that were the happiest and the most miserable of my whole life?

"Tag, it ... Doug and I ... it was more than him using me. I mean, the whole thing was a lot more complicated than that," she managed to choke out quietly.

And then she put Tag off for a little while, telling him she would sleep on it and give him an answer in the morning.

So she went home alone, trying to decide how she felt about him.  They were friends, good friends, something she and Doug had never been. They laughed together and shared most of the same views about important things.  He was fun to be with. He was nice. And sex with him was comfortable and familiar, right from the start. It was ... *nice*.

There was that word again.

He was considerate and always concerned about her, making sure she was "fulfilled." This was the adult way of being in love, she thought. This was how people lived together for years, for the rest of their lives. It wasn't all wild need and crazy abandon, like she'd experienced with Doug. That couldn't last. What she had now, with Tag, finally proved that she'd grown up.

What she and Doug had together was something adolescent. Fun, sure - but when they weren't having fun, what would they have? Her self-doubts and fears, his dark secrets and insecurities and the way he chose to cope with them - by drinking himself into a state of oblivion several nights a week.  Not much to base a long-term relationship on.

She walked out into her living room and looked around her apartment again. So many memories. She and Doug had started dating shortly after she moved here and he would always be associated with this place in her mind.

A smirk crept over her face. Where *hadn't* they had sex? There was the kitchen floor, of course, the couch, the bathtub, the living room floor, the fire escape...

Tag preferred sex in the bedroom, with the lights out, at night.  But Carol was uncomfortable being with him in this apartment. There were too many tangible memories of Doug lingering here - especially in her bedroom, where she still had recurring dreams, and fantasies, about him.

She sat down on the couch. If this was her last night in this apartment, she would spend it lost in one of her sweetest memories of Doug. She thought back to his last birthday...
_____________________

The Kitchen

She'd invited him over for dinner, choosing to ignore the fact that on *her* last birthday they had not been speaking. She had seen him having lunch with a respiratory therapist in the cafeteria, smiling at her charmingly and touching her cheek.

"You disgusting, cheating son-of-a-bitch," she yelled at him later. "You can't even bother to leave the hospital, can you? You have to humiliate me right there at work!"

By the time they'd gotten back together, it was weeks later and he'd forgotten all about her birthday. He never did get her a present.

But for his birthday, she planned to cook a special dinner for the two of them and she was determined not to make a mess of it. Carol had never learned how to cook, another shortcoming her mother seized on at every opportunity.

Doug had shown up on time, for a change, and started looking around immediately for his present. "Okay, where is it?" he said at the door, carrying a six-pack and a jacket.

"It's right here. I'm your present," she had answered, kissing him teasingly - flicking her tongue over his bottom lip and murmuring, "Mmmmmm."

He responded enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around her and starting to kiss her back, but she put him off. "You don't get to open your present until later - that was just a preview," she said, smiling mischeviously. "Right now, you can watch the game. I'm still cooking."

Disappointed, but smiling, Doug sat in the living room, drinking his way through the six-pack and watching TV. After about half an hour, he got up.

"Hey, what's taking so long?" He strolled into the kitchen casually, sounding bored.

"I'm trying to make something nice for you, okay? You know I'm not good at this, so just give me a break. Go watch your game," she said, stir-frying a pan of vegetables.

She snuck a sidelong glance at him. Uh-oh. He had that look on his face, she saw, a pang of desire stabbing her as it always did when he got close to her looking like that.

"Carol ... I thought you were gonna be my birthday present."

The way he said her name. It sent shivers through her.

"Doug, I think your patients are starting to rub off on you. You sound like a little kid. Can't you wait until after dinner?"

"Uh, no, I really don't think so," he grinned, slipping his arms around her from behind and making sure she could feel his erection pressed against her ass.

"Geez, what were you doing in my living room?" Carol asked, incredulous. "I thought you were supposed to be watching the game. What's on TV - a swimsuit contest?"

"It's your fault, Carol," he said, gathering her hair up in his hands and dipping his head to kiss the back of her neck tantalizingly.  "The thought of you, in here slaving over the stove, getting all hot and sweaty just for me ... I couldn't resist."

Carol laughed, then leaned her head back to rest on his shoulder, closing her eyes briefly.

"Your timing is *fantastic*, Doug," she said sarcastically, relaxing and lowering the heat on the stove.

She turned around in his arms and looked up at him. The next thing she knew he was devouring her mouth, his hands were raking through her hair, pushing her against the stove until she moved away in alarm - worried that he was going to have her right there.

Instead, Doug lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed herself against the hard bulge in his jeans.

"Oh god ...." he moaned, depositing her on the closest object he could find - which happened to be the rickety, ancient kitchen table that she'd inherited from her grandmother.

Doug laid her back across the table, both of them kissing and groping like teenagers in heat, and leaned over her, hiking up the sexy black miniskirt she was wearing.

But their combined weight and frantic clutching were too much for the old table. A weak leg buckled and it collapsed under them suddenly with a huge crash. Doug and Carol found themselves dumped unceremoniously on the floor, a confused tangle of arms and legs and flowered tablecloth.

Carol looked at Doug, at the shocked look on his face and the rapidly deflating bulge in his pants, and started laughing.

"Happy birthday, Doug," she finally choked out.

He looked over at her, still surprised. "Thanks a lot, Carol.  You could have warned me about that table."

"What is it about my kitchen, Doug?" Carol was nearly hysterical now. "Anytime you walk in here you never seem to be able to wait until after dinner."

He looked at her, catching the joke, then started laughing along.
________________________

The Party

They had had a wonderful time that night, sitting down on the living room floor to a bottle of champagne and Carol's dinner - which came out perfectly, for once - at the coffee table set with china and candles.

She had bought herself a new set of lingerie and wrapped it up to give to him.

"Hey, I thought this was supposed to be a present for me!" he protested as he unwrapped it.

"This *is* for you," she said coyly, snatching it from him and going into the bathroom to put on the lacy bra and panties under a robe.

A few minutes later she walked out of the bathroom and stood in front of him as he sat on the couch. "Okay, now you get to unwrap it again. Maybe you'll like it better this time," she said. He stared at her and grinned lecherously, reaching up slowly to pull at the belt of her robe, untying the knot and letting it fall open.

"Oh, yeah, you're right. I like it *much* better like this," he said, not moving, just staring at her, his brown eyes traveling the length of her body, drinking in the sight of her, and then locking with hers.

They watched each other for a long moment, searching each other's faces, each looking for something but not knowing exactly what it was they hoped to find.

"C'mon," she said softly, holding out her hand.

"What?" he asked, sitting still.

"Your party. It's in here." She led him to her bedroom, telling him that tonight he could call the shots, that he should be selfish for a change and that all she wanted was to make him happy.

He smiled. "This is a nice present," he said, sliding the robe off her shoulders and leaning down to kiss her neck, pressing his mouth against the soft spot at the base of her throat.

"I think it's the best birthday present I've ever gotten," he murmured, slipping his arms around her.

She sat him down on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of him, slowing undressing him and then taking him deeply into her mouth, feeling herself become incredibly aroused by the way he inhaled sharply and clutched the bedspread. She did everything she could to pleasure him, loving it when he moaned and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back.

She sucked and licked him, tonguing him teasingly and stroking his thighs and his balls until she was sure he was close to coming. But suddenly he heaved a sigh and pushed her gently away, laying back on the bed and struggling to maintain control.

She looked at him, confused. "What's wrong, Doug?" she asked "You always ...."

"I was ... I was gonna..." he said, his breathing still fast.  "Doug, I want you to. I told you to go ahead and enjoy yourself," she said, starting to feel a little hurt.

"I know Carol, and I loved what you were doing. But that's not what I want tonight," he said, regaining his composure slowly and rolling over to look at her.

"Doug..." Her stubborn nature was getting the best of her.

"Carol," he interrupted her, "you said it's my party, right?  Whatever makes me happy?"

She nodded silently, sitting on the floor next to the bed.

"Okay, well, what's gonna make me happy tonight is you getting there with me," he said, reaching for her, his arms pulling her into the bed beside him. "You make me happy."

She smiled, overwhelmed for a moment, looking into his eyes and wanting him so much, wanting to tell him she loved him so much.

Instead, she turned over onto her back, avoiding his gaze and keeping her voice light. "Y'know, you're pretty rare - for a guy."

"Oh, so you're finally admitting how lucky you are to have me?" he said, grinning.

She grinned too, looking at the ceiling.

"Doug?"

"Yeah?"

"Quit while you're ahead."

"C'mere you. I'm tired of waiting for my birthday present."

They laughed while they made love, slowly, making it last, teasing each other, murmuring into each others' mouths - silly words that filled up all the empty spaces between them. Words that took the place of all the things they felt for each other but could not say.

Afterwards, Doug stayed the night with her and Carol lay awake next to him, replaying his voice in her mind: *You make me happy.*

This is *my* birthday present, Carol thought to herself, snuggling against him as he slept, closing her eyes and feeling him there with her - his breathing deep and regular, his body warm and relaxed. She was looking forward to waking up with him in the morning.

This is *my* present.

End of Part 1